The Flight Boys had commandeered a corner of the hotel restaurant, still buzzing from their 42-0 demolition of Detroit Storm. Plates of food covered the table as they rehashed every play, every touchdown, every perfect throw.
"Bro, when you hit that 63-yard bomb to Marcus," Deshawn said, gesturing wildly with a chicken wing, "I swear that safety's soul left his body."
"Facts," Elijah laughed. "Dude looked like he seen a ghost. Just standing there watching Marcus run past him."
"Y'all saw the corner try to press me though?" Marcus grinned, taking a massive bite of his burger. "I hit him with that jab release so clean, boy thought I teleported."
"That wasn't even your best route," Jaylen said. "That comeback in the first half where you broke that linebacker's ankles? That shit was nasty."
"Speaking of nasty," Terrell interrupted, "T, that wheel route touchdown you threw me? Perfect fucking placement. Right in the corner where only I could get it."
Tristain was scrolling through his phone, trying to keep up with the thousands of notifications flooding in. His follower count was approaching 300k, and the comments were getting wild.
"Yo, check this out," Carlos said, showing everyone his phone. "SportsCenter just posted a compilation of all your touchdowns today. It's already got 2 million views."
"Two million?" Deshawn whistled. "Bro, you're actually famous now."
"Don't let it go to his head," Marcus laughed. "His ego's already big enough."
"My ego?" Tristain shot back. "You're the one who pointed at the corner after burning him for 63 yards."
"That wasn't ego, that was facts. Boy got cooked and needed to know about it."
As they continued roasting each other, Tristain's phone buzzed with a text from Ayana. He smiled immediately.
Ayana: "Just watched the highlights. You really shut them out 42-0? "
Tristain: "Easy work. Felt automatic out there"
Ayana: "Your head's getting too big 🙄 But I'm proud of you for real"
Tristain: "When I get back you're gonna have my full attention though. Heard something about prom? 👀"
Ayana: "Maybe 😏 You asking?"
Tristain: "I already asked. Question is, you want to go with a group or just us?"
Ayana: "Depends. You gonna be a gentleman or you trying to get freaky? 😂"
Tristain: "Can't it be both? 😈"
Ayana: "Boy you're nasty lmaooo"
Tristain: "I'm just saying... when I get back I want you lying on my chest so I can play with your hair while we watch movies or some shit"
Ayana: "Tristain! 😭 You can't be saying stuff like that while I'm in public"
Tristain: "Why? You blushing? 😏"
Ayana: "MAYBE. Shut up and go eat your lunch"
Tristain: "I'd rather eat—"
Ayana: "DON'T FINISH THAT SENTENCE"
Tristain: "😂😂😂 You dirty minded. I was gonna say your cooking"
Ayana: "Sure you were 🙄 Go win your next game so you can come home and hold me"
Tristain: "Bet. Miss you for real"
Ayana: "Miss you too. Now stop texting me and focus on football"
"Yo, T!" Marcus called out. "Who got you smiling like that? Don't tell me you're texting some groupie."
"Nah, just Ayana," Tristain replied, putting his phone down.
"Ayana? Your host sister?" Deshawn raised an eyebrow. "Bro, that's some interesting energy."
"Shut the fuck up," Tristain laughed. "We're just cool."
"Just cool?" Jaylen smirked. "Man was over there grinning like he just got some pussy."
"Y'all are fucking stupid," Tristain said, but he was still smiling.
"Nah, for real though," Elijah said, "when we get back, y'all better figure that shit out. The tension's been obvious since day one."
"There's no tension."
"Cap," the entire table said in unison.
"Whatever," Tristain laughed. "Y'all worried about my love life instead of this semifinal. Speaking of which, who we playing?"
Coach Taylor approached their table with a serious expression. "Phoenix Elite. Group B champions. They beat Miami Hurricanes 35-21 in their final."
"Phoenix Elite?" Marcus frowned. "Never heard of them."
"Well, you're about to get real familiar," Taylor said, sitting down. "They're a bunch of trash talkers from Arizona. Think they're hot shit because they play in the desert. Their quarterback is Kevin Martinez, their receiver is Antonio Williams. Both think they're the best players in the tournament."
"Do they know about us?" Terrell asked.
"Oh, they know," Taylor grinned. "And they've been talking shit all day. Saying our comeback against Warren Central was luck. Saying Detroit Storm was overrated. Saying they're gonna expose us as frauds."
The table went quiet for a moment, then Deshawn started laughing.
"They said what now?"
"They really said we're frauds?" Marcus's expression was getting serious.
"That's what I heard. Something about showing the world what real football looks like."
Tristain put down his fork, his calm demeanor shifting slightly. "Alright then. Guess we gotta remind some more people who we are."
2:00 PM - Tournament Semifinal
FLIGHT BOYS VS. PHOENIX ELITE
The atmosphere for the semifinal was electric. Both teams had earned their way here through dominant performances, but the trash talk had been escalating all day.
As the Flight Boys took the field for warm-ups, they could hear Phoenix Elite's players talking shit from the other sideline.
"Yo, there go those lucky-ass Flight Boys!" someone yelled.
"Warren Central choked! Y'all ain't do shit special!"
"We bout to send y'all home crying!"
Marcus turned toward their sideline. "Y'all better save that energy for the game!"
"Fuck you, bitch! We run this shit!"
Deshawn shook his head. "These dudes really think they're tough."
The trash talk continued through warm-ups, with both teams getting increasingly heated. By the time they lined up for the coin toss, the tension was palpable.
Phoenix Elite won the toss and elected to receive. As the captains walked back to their respective sidelines, the Phoenix quarterback, Kevin Martinez, made sure to get the last word.
"Hope y'all ready to get embarrassed on national TV!"
Tristain just stared at him coldly. "We'll see."
---
Martinez jogged onto the field with supreme confidence, his receivers already talking trash to the Flight Boys' defensive backs.
"Y'all ain't ready for this smoke!" Antonio Williams yelled at Devon Carter. "About to cook your ass all day!"
"Talk less, play more," Devon replied calmly.
1st and Goal from the 25
Martinez lined up in shotgun, scanning the Flight Boys' defense with arrogance written all over his face.
"Y'all playing scared already!" he yelled toward the Flight Boys' sideline. "This bout to be easy!"
At the snap, Martinez took a five-step drop and looked for Williams on a comeback route. But Devon Carter had read the play perfectly, jumping the route and deflecting the ball away.
INCOMPLETE PASS.
"That's what I thought!" Devon yelled back. "All that talking and you can't even complete a pass!"
"Lucky-ass deflection!" Williams shot back. "Next one's going for six!"
2nd and Goal from the 25
The trash talk continued as both teams lined up. Phoenix's slot receiver was jawing at Malik Johnson.
"You too slow to cover me, old man!"
"Old man?" Malik laughed. "Boy, I'm seventeen. You must be talking about your daddy."
Martinez tried to go to his slot receiver on a crossing route, but Malik was in perfect position, breaking up the pass at the last second.
INCOMPLETE PASS.
"Where's all that trash talk now?" Malik taunted. "Y'all looking real quiet!"
"Fuck you! We just getting started!"
3rd and Goal from the 25
The critical down, with both teams' trash talk reaching a fever pitch.
"Third down, bitches!" Phoenix's tight end yelled. "About to convert this shit easy!"
"Third down, going home!" Jamal Williams replied from the defensive line.
Martinez dropped back and tried to force a throw to Williams, but Xavier Banks had read his eyes perfectly. The interception was clean, and Xavier immediately started talking.
"Thanks for the free ball, dumbass! Keep throwing me gifts!"
"That was a lucky pick!" Martinez yelled as Xavier returned the ball. "Won't happen again!"
"Everything's lucky with y'all!" Xavier shot back. "Maybe y'all just trash!"
Flight Boys' First Drive - Answering Back
Tristain took the field at the 35-yard line, his teammates hyped up from the defensive stop and ready to talk their own shit.
1st and Goal from the 35
As Tristain lined up behind center, Phoenix's defense was already running their mouths.
"Y'all bout to get exposed!" their linebacker yelled. "All that hype about to come crashing down!"
Tristain didn't respond verbally, but his pre-snap read was instant. Phoenix was showing man coverage with no safety help over Marcus.
These idiots are playing with no help. About to make them pay.
"Hot route! Marcus, go deep!"
Marcus heard the call and immediately started talking shit to his defender.
"Hope you can run, boy! About to leave you in the dust!"
"Try me, bitch! I'm locking your ass up!"
At the snap, Marcus exploded off the line with a perfect diamond release. The cornerback was playing aggressive press coverage, but Marcus's footwork was too clean.
Marcus's POV:This corner's playing too close with no help. About to send him to the shadow realm.
Marcus used a vicious jab release to the left, freezing the cornerback for a split second. Then he exploded right, his cleats tearing chunks from the turf as he accelerated past the defender.
The cornerback never had a chance. By the time he realized what happened, Marcus was already five yards behind him.
Tristain's pre-snap read had been perfect. He took a five-step drop, his right foot planting hard as his hips opened toward Marcus. His arm whipped forward with tremendous velocity, launching a strike down the field.
Safety's too far away. Marcus is gone. Put it where only he can get it.
The ball sailed 50 yards through the air, dropping perfectly into Marcus's hands at the 10-yard line. He caught it in stride and jogged into the end zone.
TOUCHDOWN. 65-yard bomb.
FLIGHT BOYS STRIKE FIRST. 7-0.
Marcus turned toward the Phoenix sideline and started his celebration.
"Y'all said what about exposing us?!" he yelled, flexing toward their bench. "Who got exposed?!"
"Lucky-ass throw!" the cornerback yelled back. "Won't happen again!"
"Keep that same energy!" Marcus replied. "I got all day to cook you!"
The Flight Boys' sideline was going crazy, with players running onto the field to celebrate.
"That's how you answer back!" Deshawn screamed. "Y'all keep talking, we keep scoring!"
---
Martinez came back onto the field heated, his team's trash talk getting even more aggressive.
"Y'all got lucky! We bout to score three times in a row!"
"Scoreboard, bitch!" Malik Johnson yelled back. "Y'all down seven!"
1st and Goal from the 20
Martinez was clearly frustrated, trying to force plays that weren't there. He looked for Williams on a quick slant, but Devon Carter was playing perfect coverage.
"Can't get open against real coverage!" Devon taunted as he broke up the pass. "All that mouth and no production!"
"Shut the fuck up! I'm bout to torch your ass!"
INCOMPLETE PASS.
2nd and Goal from the 20
The trash talk was reaching toxic levels, with both teams getting increasingly heated.
"Y'all soft as baby shit!" Phoenix's running back yelled after getting stuffed at the line. "Can't even tackle!"
"We tackled your ass to the ground!" Jamal Williams replied. "What you talking about?"
Martinez tried to scramble, but Marcus Thompson was there for the touch after a 2-yard gain.
"Sit your ass down!" Marcus yelled. "You ain't running nowhere!"
"Get off me, bitch!"
3rd and 8 from the 22
Another critical down, with Phoenix needing to convert to stay in the drive.
"Third down again!" the Flight Boys' defense chanted. "Going home! Going home!"
"Fuck y'all! We converting this shit!"
Martinez dropped back and tried to force another throw to Williams, but this time Malik Johnson was waiting.
INTERCEPTION.
"Pick number two!" Malik screamed, running the ball back to midfield. "Keep throwing me the ball! I appreciate it!"
"That was pass interference!" Martinez yelled at the officials. "Y'all cheating!"
"Ain't no PI!" Malik shot back. "You just threw a trash-ass pass!"
The Phoenix sideline was going crazy, coaches screaming at the officials while players continued to talk trash.
"Y'all getting every call! This shit is rigged!"
"Rigged?" Deshawn laughed. "Y'all just trash! Accept it!"
----
Tristain took the field at the 50-yard line, ready to extend the lead and shut up Phoenix's trash talk.
1st and Goal from the 50
Phoenix was showing aggressive man coverage again, their defensive backs still talking despite being down and having thrown two interceptions.
"We bout to pick you off next!" the safety yelled at Tristain. "All that hype about to end!"
Tristain's pre-snap read showed a massive hole in their coverage. The linebacker was cheating toward Marcus, leaving Deshawn with single coverage and no help.
They're still playing with no safety help. These dudes never learn.
"Gun trips right. Deshawn, post route. Take it to the house."
Deshawn heard the call and immediately started talking to his defender.
"Hope you fast, boy! About to leave you standing still!"
"Try me! I'm shutting your ass down!"
At the snap, Deshawn exploded off the line with a perfect hop release. The cornerback was playing aggressive coverage, but Deshawn's route-running was too precise.
From Deshawn's POV:This corner's playing too aggressive. About to make him look stupid.
Deshawn drove straight at the cornerback for 12 yards, then planted his right cleat hard and broke inside on the post route. The cut was so sharp that turf exploded around his foot.
The cornerback had no chance. Deshawn was already three steps behind him by the time he realized the route.
Tristain's progression was flawless. First read: Marcus drawing double coverage. Second read: Deshawn running free through the middle.
Deshawn's got the middle of the field to himself. This is over.
Tristain's right foot planted hard, his hips rotating smoothly as his arm whipped forward like a catapult. The ball cut through the air with tremendous velocity.
TOUCHDOWN. 50-yard strike.
FLIGHT BOYS EXTEND THE LEAD. 14-0.
Deshawn caught the ball at the 20-yard line and ran into the end zone untouched. He immediately turned toward the Phoenix sideline.
"Y'all said you was shutting me down?!" he screamed, doing a mock airplane celebration. "Where's all that trash talk now?!"
"Lucky-ass route!" the cornerback yelled. "You ain't doing that shit again!"
"Keep that same energy!" Deshawn replied. "I'm bout to get mine all day!"
The Flight Boys' sideline was electric, players dancing and celebrating while continuing to talk back to Phoenix.
"Y'all came to talk! We came to play!" Marcus yelled across the field.
"Scoreboard! Scoreboard! Scoreboard!" the entire Flight Boys team chanted.
Phoenix's players were getting increasingly frustrated, their trash talk becoming more desperate as they fell further behind.
"Y'all getting lucky! This shit ain't over!"
"Luck?" Tristain finally spoke up, his voice carrying across the field. "Y'all call perfect execution luck? We just getting started."
The coldness in his voice made everyone stop talking for a moment. Then Phoenix's players started up again, but there was less conviction in their voices.
The trash talk was far from over, but one thing was becoming clear—the Flight Boys weren't just talking. They were backing it up on every single play.
---
As the teams headed to their respective sidelines for halftime, the scoreboard told the story:
FLIGHT BOYS 14 - PHOENIX ELITE 0
The trash talk had been relentless, but the Flight Boys were letting their play do the talking. Phoenix Elite's confidence was starting to crack, their trash talk becoming more desperate as they failed to back it up.
Two touchdowns, two interceptions. All that mouth and they can't back it up. Time to show them what real football looks like in the second half.